Roses
by bitterberries
Summary: There were advantages to being the king. Besides, there wasn't a more intriguing color in his eyes. Mystwalker .


**A/N: My introduction as a mystwalker author, huehuehue.**

**Summary: There were advantages to being the king. Besides, there wasn't a more intriguing color in his eyes.**

**Disclaimer: Hiro Mashima owns Fairy Tail and all of its customers.**

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**Roses**

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There was a vast difference between being an S class mage in a famous guild and being the ruler to a kingdom. Rather than complete long term job requests, the newly formed king found himself doing _much_ more useful tasks.

Of those tasks, picking flowers for royal events was his favorite.

Funny enough, he didn't know why. Maybe it was because it gave him an excuse to roam the kingdom grounds without looking awkward -as his middle name could have been that word, because for the most part that was the way he acted. It could have been because it gave him something to do when he was bored. Maybe it was just the feeling of it all, the satisfaction that _he_ got to make the decisions without anybody's consent at all.

Because of course, there was a certain _power_ to being able to choose flowers for an event.

His emerald eyes scanned away at the large garden of beauties. Feeling slightly distracted, the king let out a frustrated sigh. What flowers were proper for a ball?

Ranging from tulips to vibrant roses, the flowers were laid before him in organized areas. In one plot, there was lovely white chrysanthemums. In another, there was a bush full of blue roses. The pattern went on, there was more than just _one_ color of a certain plant and picking only one was difficult.

"Choose one yet?" came a familiar voice.

Jellal turned around swiftly, immediately knowing who it was.

"Captain Knightwalker," he rose a peculiar brow. "What a surprise."

The said woman twirled the long blade in her hands skillfully before stabbing it into the grass. The captain wore her usual _provocative_ attire of a bikini like breastplate armor top, paired with a dark bikini bottom and a white cloth that loosely wrapped and shrouded her hips. The gauntlets and greaves on her forearms, forelegs, and thighs added a sort of intimidation factor as she stared boringly at him.

"I was on my way to the training grounds," Erza told him.

"I would assume."

"But then I decided, well, why not pay a visit to my _dear_ king?"

The corner of his mouth pulled up at her statement. There was a sarcastic tone to her words, a voice he didn't fail to notice. She made no effort to conceal it, and the facial expression she used when she said, '_My dear king_' clearly read a blunt _I do not like you._

Jellal chuckled to himself, turning away and touching the delicate petals of the blossom in front of him. He already knew the fact well, considering the countless times she's pulled him into confrontations that each centered around her dislike for the man.

Erza rolled her eyes. "Why don't you just get a _florist_?"

"Do you live to go against everything I do?"

"People need to earn my respect, and you, my lord, have yet to earn it," she replied slowly.

"You know, I would _think_ as the king that your respect would already be honored to me when I fulfilled the position." He held the pretty flower between his fingers now. A small smile was on his face when he returned his attention to her.

"Well you see, your highness," she began, pulling her sword out of the ground and suddenly lunging it at his throat. She had moved so quickly that it made a _swish_ in the air. But rather than to come off threatening like she intended, her red locks swayed from the warm wind going about them, and Jellal swore he didn't mean to look at it for so long.

She cleared her throat awkwardly, then brought the tip of the weapon to his chin. "As opposed to that rose, I'm not as _sweet._"

"You don't say?"

Erza's eyes narrowed. He didn't look the least bit flustered at her actions, and it pestered her.

With a flip of her medium length hair, she withdrew the blade fiercly and sauntered off to the training grounds, annoyed.

Jellal watched in entertainment.

Once she entered the nearby field, he noted how she _furiously_ attacked the first thing she saw. Letting an amused laugh escape him he stared at the beautiful scarlet rose in his hand. His gaze wavered from the flower to the angry Erza Knightwalker, and with a very faint blush on his cheek Jellal mused.

He liked the color red, and he liked roses.

"Red roses it is," he proclaimed.

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